


The Serpent Sultana

by Sheliak



Category: Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Naga, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheliak/pseuds/Sheliak
Summary: Jasmine's new form takes some getting used to.
Relationships: Aladdin/Jasmine (Disney)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	The Serpent Sultana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neosaiyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/gifts).



It’s hard, at first. But Jasmine is beginning to think she won’t regret this change, in the end. 

She’s stronger now, and if she can’t run anymore, if her slithering isn’t quite so fast, Carpet can still carry her—and she can _climb_ faster than any human. It’s come in handy, a few times.

After that first, terrible time when she stung Aladdin with her barbs, she swore to brew an antidote. And that, they’ve managed, with help from Genie and recourse to some of Jafar's old notes. They both carry some with them now.

At first, she was afraid to go out in public, to be seen by the people she’ll one day rule. And at first, they were afraid of her, as she worried. Only Aladdin’s easy company—joking, reassuring—kept her going, kept them from fleeing her. But bit by bit, she’s won their trust again. These days, she can go to the market like she used to, and all anyone says of her scales is “There goes the princess!”

The people say that their future Sultana has a serpent’s scales, but not a serpent’s fangs. She takes that compliment, and smiles with her mouth closed. (Perhaps it’s true: her canines are sharper, but not venom-laden. Though for that matter, no serpent in the world has her barbs.) 

(Some of them already call her the Serpent Sultana: her father still rules, but she’s been helping more, these days. And that title seems hopeful, to her.)

She spends longer in the palace baths than she used to; water against her scales is a rare pleasure. Sometimes she calls Aladdin to join her; they begin playing in the water like children, and then as man and woman—and oh, she looks forward to their wedding—they explore her scales, his flesh, all together. Thus they discover that her barbs are retractable; thus, too, they ease the itch when her skin is ready to shed. 

She can live like this. She can live a good life, like this. 

“You’re beautiful,” her Aladdin says, unguarded. He still means it. 

Perhaps so do the artists of Agrabah, who say they want to immortalize her coils in mosaic. But Jasmine knows now that any face she wore would be beautiful to Aladdin. So she takes his flowers, pins them in her hair, and reaches out to him in return, with fearless arms and fearless coils.


End file.
